


Glossed

by Astrals (Evoxine)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossdressing, Fluff and Smut, Gladio is insanely smitten, Ignis is insanely gorgeous, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 17:25:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15199769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Astrals
Summary: Gladio's gaze lands on a man, standing just a couple of inches short of his 6’6” in shiny, red stilettos. His eyes trail up slim calves before drinking in the sight of a matching red pencil skirt hugging toned thighs. A black silk shirt is tucked neatly into the skirt, emphasizing a tapered waist. The top two buttons are undone, and Gladio’s mouth nearly waters at the sight of smooth, fair skin peeking through.But the man’s outfit is nothing compared to his face.





	Glossed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hyperionova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyperionova/gifts).



> Happy 23rd Birthday to my Enabler of many fandoms ♡
> 
> With love from your Soft Bottom ™️

Gladio’s barely spent two minutes in his office when a knock sounds on his door.

“Mr. Amicitia,” his secretary says, her ever-present clipboard perched on her forearm. “Mr. Caelum wants to see you. He’s currently in Meeting Room #2, with Mr. Leonis.”

Sighing, Gladio rises from his seat and rebuttons his suit jacket. “What’s this about?”

“It’s regarding Noctis’ upcoming position at Armiger,” Rena answers, walking alongside Gladio as they head over to the elevators. Her heels click firmly against the sleek hardwood floors. “They have to hire an assistant for him, and Mr. Caelum wants you to start running background checks for the upcoming interviews.”

“If you’re telling me everything I need to know,” Gladio points out, “why do I still have to go see him?”

Rena snorts. “Because, Mr. Amicitia, there are details that only Mr. Caelum can tell you,” she says patiently. Reaching out with a perfectly manicured nail, she presses the elevator button. “Now, be good for him. I wouldn’t like to deal with yet another complaint.”

Gladio grins, and she walks away with a fond shake of the head.

 

 

 

  
Gladiolus Amicitia works in The Citadel, one of the companies managed by the Crystal Corporation. He’s the Head of Security, working under Cor Leonis, the CEO. He’s been part of the Lucis Caelum’s inner circle ever since he was a child, growing up amongst the wealthiest families in Insomnia. Regis, the head of arguably the most influential family in Insomnia, is his father’s business partner, and Gladio was raised with the sole goal of taking over his father’s position in the corporation when he retires.

As a teenager, he’d grown envious of Iris, his baby sister. She has the freedom he’d always wanted, able to spend nights over at her friends’, able to go to parties, able to enjoy her teen years. But now, just one year shy of turning thirty, he has long since accepted his fate. This is what he was born to do, and this is what he will do. He will do it well, and he will make his father proud.

Gladio’s job takes a lot out of him. He oversees various policies and procedures, coordinates security efforts across the company, develops procedures to ensure the physical safety of employees and visitors, develops and implements global security policies, standards, guidelines and procedures... In short, Gladio’s job doesn’t give him much time for himself. He isn’t getting any younger, and his mother’s been asking for a grandchild. It hurts a little, whenever he has to let his mother down. But it is what it is – he simply can’t have it all. He makes do with the occasional passionate night but otherwise keeps himself satisfied with his own abilities.

Whenever he’s not away on business, Gladio is in his office by eight, a large cup of dark roast in his hands. Despite hating how suits always seem to constrict his movements, he wears them religiously, acutely aware of how his image will translate onto the company.

Noctis, his childhood friend and Regis’ only son, is due to start working at Armiger, a high-end club undergoing a major revamp, in just a few weeks. He’d spent a few years in Tenebrae for university, and ever since his return, Regis has been coaching him through the process of taking over the club.

Placing Noctis as head of a club is a good fit, Gladio thinks, for Noctis has never done well when it comes to sitting down at a desk and getting work done. Placing him in one of the corporate companies and having him deal with paperwork and daily meetings would probably send him to an early grave. This way, he can enjoy irregular hours, pretty people, and an unlimited flow of alcohol. Gladio just hopes that the man will be able to control his intake. Liver cirrhosis is no joke.

His usual work days are filled with tons of paperwork and scanning through security codes, but today is slightly different. He leaves his meeting with Regis with a pile of files clamped underneath his arm. There are almost three dozen potential hires, and Gladio has to go through them all before the end of the week.

He sends Rena a quick message, asking her to reschedule his meetings for the rest of the week, as he’ll need all the time he can get to complete all these background checks. Then, he proceeds to shrug off his suit jacket, roll up his sleeves, and crack his knuckles. It’s a bad habit, but it feels great, alright?

By the time he looks up from his computer screen, the sky’s dusky, and people are starting to trickle out of the office doors. Gladio exhales, turning around to gaze out of his floor-length windows at the cityscape of Insomnia. It’s a beautiful view, it always has been, but Gladio’s too wrung out to enjoy it today. His shoulders twinge in pain from having to hunch over his keyboard for hours, and when his back pops in several places when he stretches, Gladio decides to call it a day. He packs up, shoves a few files into his briefcase to work on at home, and books it out of the building.

One of his greatest treasures in life is his custom-made motorcycle, a sleek, black beauty that purrs to life between his legs. It holds his large frame comfortably, boasts a 1100cc 6-speed motor, and takes him through the streets of Insomnia like a dream.

It had taken a lot of effort to convince Clarus to approve of his choice of transportation, but all that time was definitely worth it. Now, as Gladio speeds home with the wind whipping through his hair, he feels the day’s worth of stress slowly seep out of his bones. By the time he gets home, stepping through the door of his penthouse, he’s feeling more like himself.

Gladio pours himself two fingers of scotch, and he savours it as he sheds his many layers, ultimately slipping into a pair of old sweats. Settling down at his dining table, he pulls out his files and continues working, humming along to music trickling from his record player.

By the time he showers and climbs into bed, the city is quiet, and Gladio joins it in sleep.

 

 

 

  
“I’ve whittled down the list to eleven candidates,” Gladio says, sliding the files across the table towards Regis. “Will you need me to be present for the interviews?”

“That’s not necessary,” Regis says, thumbing through the papers. “But I will need you to make a couple of trips down to Armiger in order to help Aranea familiarise herself with the security systems. I’ll also need you to audit the place’s security platforms. She’ll be running security, but she has been instructed to contact you should the need arise.”

“Understood.” He rises, suit jacket slung over his arm.

“Oh,” Regis says, and Gladio pauses. “Please tell your father to reply to my emails. That man has a horrid tendency to glaze over his emails.”

“Will do,” Gladio says with a laugh. “Mom’s been trying to get him to leave work at work, so I wouldn’t be too surprised if that was a contributing factor. But I’ll let him know.”

Regis gives him a kind smile, and Gladio exits his office with a tip of the head.

A glance at his watch tells him that he has just enough time to rush over to the gym should he choose to do so. It’s been a few days, and he’s missed the burn in his muscles and the feeling of a nice, cold shower after 90 minutes of sweating his balls off. An avid boxer and all-around gym rat, Gladio’s been a member at one of Insomnia’s swankiest gyms for almost a decade. He’s got his own locker where he keeps a few changes of clothes, and Nyx Ulric, the owner of the gym, has given him free reign to utilize the employees’ showers.

“Rena,” he says the moment he steps out of the elevator. “Do I have any meetings scheduled for the rest of the day?”

“You don’t,” she replies, without even checking the calendar. “Heading off?”

“You got that right,” Gladio says, breezing into his office to grab his briefcase. “You know where to reach me.”

Rena bids him goodbye with an amused wave, and Gladio’s speeding off towards the gym in a matter of minutes.

 

 

 

  
Gladio steps inside Armiger, dressed in fitted jeans and a black tank. The club’s renovations are just about done, but there are still several people milling about and dealing with last minute issues. He spots Aranea Highwind towards the back of the main room, deep in conversation with one of the senior staff members.

“Hey,” he calls, waving a large hand. Aranea turns at his voice, and she raises a finger to signal for him to wait.

Nodding, Gladio takes a seat on a couch, grimacing at the loud crinkle of the plastic sheet still covering the piece of furniture. He busies himself by pulling up King’s Knight, and he manages to spend a good eight minutes on the game before the doors swing open and Noctis strides in, with a slim blond hurrying after him.

“What are you doing here,” Gladio asks, frowning at him. “Don’t you have interviews to conduct?”

“Well, yeah,” Noctis says, looking at Gladio like he’s stupid. “I’m conducting them here. Obviously.”

Gladio snorts, turning his attention over to the other man. “Hey, Blondie. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Prompto Argentum is Noctis’ best friend from university, and they’re practically inseparable. Prompto works for Crystal as well, as the Head of Firearms Manufacturing in Kingsglaive, the nation’s leading producer and supplier for military equipment.

“Heya, big guy. Yeah, been crazy busy – been out of town on supply runs for like, the past two weeks. Wait, is that a new scar? The one across your forehead? I swear that’s new. Do you, like, collect them?”

“I gotta go,” Noctis says, jerking his thumb towards the back of the club. “Chill with Gladio or something.”

“I have work to do too, you know,” Gladio says mildly, turning back to his game. The three of them all know that Gladio doesn’t care if Prompto tags along. Noctis leaves for his interviews, and Prompto flops down onto the couch.

“Wanna play?” Gladio asks, gesturing to his phone.

“Hell yeah. Haven’t been on in so long. Did I miss much?”

 

 

 

  
“Well shit, that’s a lot of information to process,” Aranea mutters, tucking a few locks of hair behind her hair.

“It’s not an easy job,” Gladio agrees, closing the program that’s pulled up on the desktop. “I hope it treats you better than it does me.”

Aranea pulls a face, and Gladio checks her lightly in the shoulder as they make their way back out into the main room. He’s just about to turn and tell her something when Gladio catches a whiff of perfume, strong notes of bluebells fused with lilies and persimmon. It’s so lovely that he stops in his tracks, turning around as his nose tries to follow the scent.

It comes as a surprise when his gaze lands on a man, standing just a couple of inches short of his 6’6” in shiny, red stilettos. Gladio’s eyes trail up slim calves before drinking in the sight of a matching red pencil skirt hugging toned thighs. A black silk shirt is tucked neatly into the skirt, emphasizing a tapered waist. The top two buttons are undone, and Gladio’s mouth nearly waters at the sight of smooth, fair skin peeking through. But the man’s outfit is nothing compared to his face. Dirty blond hair tumbling into gorgeous viridian eyes framed by a pair of glasses, a sharp nose offset by rounded lips…

“Excuse me?”

Gladio’s shaken out of his reverie by a deep voice and a _delightful_ accent.

“Uh –” He winces at the crack in his voice. “Yes?”

“I’m here for the interview; where should I be?”

Interview? Doesn’t that mean Gladio has seen this man’s profile when he was weeding through all those damned files? Why doesn’t he remember his name? He stares a little longer at the man’s face, hoping it’ll jog his memory.

A perfect eyebrow crooks.

“Interview, you say?” Aranea says, stepping in. “Just down the hall, first door to your right.”

“Thank you,” comes the cool reply. Gladio swallows past the dry lump in his throat when their eyes meet. The moment shatters when the man walks away, heels tapping softly against the floor.

“See something you like?” Prompto teases, appearing out of nowhere and elbowing Gladio in the ribs.

Gladio can only nod dumbly.

 

 

 

The first thing Gladio does when he gets to his office is to rifle through the files, eyes skipping between résumés in hopes of finding out that man’s name. He makes it halfway through the pile before he spots the face he’s been looking for.

_Ignis Scientia, 28 years old._

Of course. Gladio remembers him now. He’s the guy with the most impressive résumé Gladio’s seen to date, having worked at various respectable firms as an advisor or a senior strategist. Caught a full ride to the nation’s most prestigious university and graduated summa cum laude – at the young age of eighteen. Worked with several governmental agencies, but seemed to realise some time down the road that he didn’t quite suit that particular career path.

Brains _and_ beauty, Gladio thinks. He almost swoons. God, he hopes Noctis hires him.

 

 

 

  
As it is, Gladio finds himself swamped with too much work over the next few days to wonder about the fate of Ignis and his interview with Noctis. It isn’t until he receives a formal invitation to attend Armiger’s grand re-opening that he remembers.

Gladio gets a haircut, shaves, and even spends several agonizing moments cleaning up his eyebrows. Blessedly, his best suit still fits him perfectly across the shoulders, and he makes sure his shoes are polished before stepping out of the house. He forgoes the motorbike for the night, choosing to tag along with the rest of his family in one of the company’s limos.

“Looking good,” Clarus says, giving his son a once over when Gladio ducks into the vehicle.

“I tried,” Gladio replies with a grin. “Gotta look good for Noctis’, huh?” He waggles his eyebrows at Iris, who flushes spectacularly at the implied tease.

“Shut up,” she huffs, colour high on her cheeks.

Chortling, Gladio settles into plush leather as the limo pulls out into traffic, trying his best to calm the butterflies currently fluttering about in the pit of his belly.

“Hey,” he says after a moment. “Do you know who Noctis ended up hiring as his assistant?”

“Not a clue,” Clarus replies. “I’m sure he chose well.”

“Yeah,” Gladio says. Iris gives him a weird look that he doesn’t acknowledge.

 

 

 

  
The party is already in full swing by the time they arrive, and Gladio steps out of the limo into a flood of camera flashes. Light sears itself into Gladio’s eyelids, and he places a guarding hand on the small of Iris’ back as they push their way through the photographers and into the club.

It’s absolutely packed inside, throngs of people milling about and dancing to the heavy bass pounding through the establishment. Despite the sheer number of people, it takes Gladio a single scan of the room to find Noctis. He’s up by the DJ booth, a glass in hand as he surveys the club.

Gladio raises his hand – coupled with his height, Noctis spots him easily and beckons him over. After lecturing Iris on keeping an eye on her drinks at all times and making sure she has her phone on her, Gladio pushes his way through the crowd towards his friend.

“Nice turnout,” Gladio yells, gesturing towards the dance floor. “How’re you feeling? First day of work and all.”

Noctis shrugs, leaning closer to Gladio and yanking him down so that he can speak right into Gladio’s ear. “Not too bad, honestly. I mean, it helps that my assistant is ridiculously good at what he does. He wears sky-high heels, dude. Heels. And he still manages to run all of my errands without a single complaint. My schedule is arranged wonderfully – he even sets out breaks for me. No more than two meetings a day.”

As soon as Gladio registers the fact that Noctis said “sky-high heels”, everything after that turns to white noise.

“You, uh, said he wears heels?” Gladio clears his throat and tries not to look too interested.

Noctis nods and raises his glass to his lips. He pauses right before he takes a sip.

“Wait a minute,” Noctis says, eyes sliding over to Gladio. There’s a glint in his eyes. “That’s right, I remember Prompto telling me something interesting…”

Gladio’s never been so happy for dim lighting in his life.

“You got a thing for my assistant?” Noctis continues, a leer sliding across his face.

“I don’t have a _thing_ for him,” Gladio snaps, flustered. “I’ve only seen him once.”

“Well,” Noctis says, clearing not taking Gladio’s shit, “if you want to see him more than once, he’s right over there.” He points towards the bar.

Gladio can’t help himself – he glances over instantly. The second his gaze lands on Ignis’ tall, slender frame, his mouth dries up faster than a drop of water in the Sahara Desert. _He’s not wearing his glasses today._

The man’s dressed in a crimson bodysuit, the thin, glossy fabric clinging deliciously to his body. Toned arms are on display, and Gladio momentarily wonders what it would feel like to leave trail after trail of kisses down those biceps. But he hasn’t even gotten to the best part of Ignis’ outfit yet. The fishnets.

He lets out an honest-to-god whimper when he lets his eyes slide down those exquisitely long legs. The bodysuit is cut high, and if Gladio is close enough, he could probably catch a glimpse of hip bones peeking through. As it is, from his distance, all Gladio can see is leg. So much leg. Those black pumps do nothing to hide the fact that Ignis is basically a supermodel.

“ _Dude_ ,” he hears Noctis say. “You’re practically drooling.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Gladio sighs. He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries not to think about how his dick is stirring in his pants. Grabbing Noctis’ drink, he drowns it all in one gulp. Noctis grins at him.

When Ignis turns around, the outfit working seamlessly together to show off his pert little bottom, Gladio dies a little inside. He needs another drink.

 

 

 

  
Gladio’s head is swimming when he steps out of the elevator and trudges towards his office. It’s only 9:30 in the morning and that meeting he’d just had with Regis and Cor… good lord, shit like that definitely requires a couple of drinks beforehand.

He blinks balefully at Rena when he passes her desk. She laughs, then slides a cup of hot, fragrant coffee over to him.

“Don’t think you’ve had a cup today yet, have you?”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Gladio whispers, grabbing the cup and taking an indulgent sip. He sighs in brief contentment when the liquid washes down his throat.

“You might not want to thank me yet,” Rena says. She nods towards his office door. “You have a visitor. He, uh, looks like he’s got a few important things to discuss.”

When Gladio enters his office and sees who the visitor is, he makes a mental note to buy both Rena and Noctis flowers.

 

 

 

  
“Mr. Amicitia,” Ignis says in that ridiculously sexy accent, rising from his seat when Gladio walks in. Gladio rips his eyes away from the curve of Ignis’ ass, clad in another perfectly pressed pencil skirt. “My apologies for the unscheduled appearance, but Noctis sent me over quite last minute.”

“That’s okay,” Gladio says, voice sounding just a little rougher than usual. “He does that a lot. And please, call me Gladio.”

He settles into his seat, suddenly grateful for the height of his desk and its ability to hide his lower half. He clears his throat and gestures for Ignis to take a seat.

“Very well.” Ignis reaches down and produces a thick folder, which he places onto Gladio’s desk. “Noctis would like for you to look at these – according to him, Ms. Highwind isn’t capable of dealing with issues of his magnitude at the present time.”

Frowning, Gladio opens up the folder and thumbs through several sheets of paper. That’s weird, he thinks, these are all basic things that he himself had taught Aranea. She seemed to understand it perf– _oh_. Gladio stares at a small post-it stuck on the middle of a page. It’s neon green, and on it, written in Noctis’ handwriting, is _think of this as a favour, big guy. you owe me one!_

“I’ll get started on these ASAP,” Gladio says, shutting the folder. “When does he need them by?”

“I’ll come by again by the end of the week,” Ignis says, flipping through his planner with slender fingers. Gladio really wants to have those fingers tangled in his hair, perhaps even pulling on it. “If that’s a good time?”

“You’ll have to check with Rena, I’m afraid. She keeps track of my appointments for me.”

Ignis hums, pushing his glasses up his nose. “In that case, I will consult with her. Thank you for seeing me without any prior notice, Gladio.”

“Sure,” Gladio says, entranced by the way Ignis pushes his hair out of his eyes. “Anytime.”

He nearly has a heart attack when Ignis gives him a small smile.

“Here’s my card,” Ignis says, “feel free to contact me if you require anything from Noctis. I’ll be taking my leave now, if you have no further questions?”

Well, Gladio has a bunch of questions, namely h _ow are you so stunning, can I kiss you, can I take you out on dates, can we spend a whole day in bed where I just lavish you with attention_ , but he manages to keep his mouth shut.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Gladio says instead, rising and offering Ignis his hand. “Formally, I mean.”

“Pleasure is all mine.”

They shake hands – Gladio wants to cry at how soft Ignis’ skin feels and how his own hand seems to completely engulf the other man’s.

Ignis leaves in a cloud of subtly sweet perfume and a gentle sway of the hips. When the door closes behind him, Gladio slumps down into his seat, overwhelmed. As soon as he collects his wits together, he sends a long text of gratitude to Noctis.

 

 

 

  
Of course, Gladio doesn’t actually do the work, for Aranea is perfectly capable of doing it herself. But Ignis doesn’t have to know that. Not wanting to come off desperate, he waits a couple of days before sending Ignis a text.

_Hey, Ignis. Gladio here. Do you mind asking Noctis what he wants from the third section? I’ve been sending him emails, but he’s never been good at answering them._

Right after he sends that text, he sends another one to Noctis.

_Yo, be a wingman for me, yeah? You’ll get what I mean in a bit, probably._

Noctis replies almost instantly with a single thumbs up emoji, and Ignis’ reply comes not long after.

_Certainly. I’ll get in contact with him and get back to you as soon as I can._

Pleased, Gladio sets his phone aside and turns back to his desk in order to get some actual work done. After a couple of hours writing reports, his desk phone rings and pulls him out of his work grind.

“Mr. Amicitia,” Rena’s voice rings through the office. “Mr. Scientia is here to see you.”

What? Gladio had assumed Ignis is a highly efficient worker, but two hours? Armiger is almost an hour’s drive from The Citadel, which meant that Ignis had to have had consulted with Noctis and gotten everything sorted out in an hour’s time.

“Let him in,” Gladio says, and Rena hangs up with a hum of assent.

He barely manages to straighten his shirt collar before a knock sounds on his door.

“Come in,” he calls, and nearly chokes on his spit when Ignis enters. The man’s in a white, off-shoulder dress, the silky – Ignis really likes silk, Gladio realises – fabric just tight enough to accentuate the subtle curve of his hips and the definition of his thighs. The hem brushes against the middle of his thighs, and the whole outfit is brought together with nude pumps.

“Gladio,” Ignis says, voice warm and soft. “Noctis sent me to pass these to you. He says they’ll explain things better.”

Gladio takes the proffered folder, trying to keep his fingers from trembling as Ignis settles down into the chair opposite him.

“Thanks,” he says gruffly, hoping the heat he feels in his cheeks don’t show too much. “You didn’t have to bring these all the way here; it’s quite a distance. Noctis should really learn how to utilize a fax machine, that lazy bastard.”

Ignis simply gives him a smile.

Gladio thumbs through the papers, not really looking at whatever’s on them as he tries to ground himself. He could’ve sworn he just flipped past a page of what looks like an online furniture catalogue.

“So, Gladio,” Ignis begins, slender fingers laced together on his lap.

“Hmm?” Gladio glances up, notes the look on Ignis’ face. “Oh, did Noctis want something else?”

“Yes, but not exactly.”

A heel clicks on the hardwood floor when Ignis inches the chair a little closer to Gladio’s desk.

“It has come to my attention that you and Noct have been… collaborating on a certain project.”

Gladio frowns, unable to think of any business ventures that they’re currently working on. Something flashes in Ignis’ eyes and a jolt of heat shivers down Gladio’s spine.

“Project?” He manages to ask. Ignis hums, uncrossing his legs slowly.

“This is the moment where I inform you that I have access to everything on Noctis’ phone,” Ignis says. Gladio freezes. “I’ve seen the texts.”

Astrals.

“You, uh, saw –”

“If I had to describe it,” Ignis continues, absently fiddling with the slim watch around his equally slim wrist, “I would say that you’ve been waxing poetry over me.”

Embarrassment floods through Gladio’s large frame. When he gets the chance to, he’s going to _chew_ Noctis out for not knowing that Ignis is able to access his texts.

“I, um,” Gladio begins, trying to stall for time in order to come up with a decent explanation. “Well, you see –”

“Considering that I know what I know, you should probably have figured out by now that I’m here for a reason, Gladio.” Ignis leans forward, and the neckline of his dress dips just a little, exposing an extra inch of skin. Gladio swallows. “Other than to deliver a pile of papers that are, quite honestly, useless.”

Ignis shifts in his seat and the hem of his dress rides up to expose the creaminess of his thighs. Gladio tries his best not to stare, but judging by the knowing smirk blossoming across Ignis’ lips, he’d failed spectacularly.

“So I thought I’d take the first step and ask you out on a date.”

Gladio cannot believe his ears.

“I beg your pardon?”

“A date, Gladio. Or have I completely misread the situation?”

“No!” Gladio bursts. Wincing, he takes a breath and soldiers on. “No, you haven’t.” He runs a hand through his hair, and his fitted shirt suddenly feels too tight on him. “I, uh, would love to go on a date with you.”

Ignis smiles, suddenly shy, and it takes Gladio’s breath away.

“Excellent. Would Saturday evening be alright?”

Gladio can only nod. He watches as Ignis pulls a pen out of his purse and places the nib onto a sheet of blank paper conveniently left lying around on Gladio’s desk.

“Here’s my address, if you’d like to pick me up.”

“It’d be my pleasure,” Gladio says, folding the paper into fours and slipping it into his pocket. “Seven?”

“Perfect,” Ignis replies. “Thank you for your time, Gladio.”

He extends his hand, waiting. Gladio decides to take a little risk, pulling Ignis’ hand closer to him just so he can dip his head and press his lips to the back. It’s unreal, how smooth Ignis’ skin seems to be, and Gladio thinks he can make out a faint scent of jasmine.

When he looks up, Ignis’ cheeks are warm with colour.

“It’s my pleasure,” Gladio repeats, Ignis’ hand still resting in his.

Gods, he can hardly wait for their date.

 

 

 

  
Gladio, assuming that a motorcycle would be a bad transportation choice on a first date, borrows his father’s automobile for the night. He doesn’t mind it too much – it drives smoothly, the engine a powerhouse, just waiting for him to press a little harder on the accelerator.

It’s beautiful out, a light breeze carding through leaves as the sun prepares to set. Gladio arrives at Ignis’ building five minutes before seven, and he sits in the car, trying his best to calm the butterflies fluttering about in his stomach.

At seven on the dot, the building’s main doors slide open, and Ignis steps out. He’s absolutely stunning, Gladio thinks, skinny jeans and his trademark stilettos accentuating the length of his legs. His oversized, white tee is tucked into the waistband, giving his outfit a casual, relaxed feel.

Stepping out of the vehicle, Gladio walks up to Ignis, a bouquet of sylleblossoms in his hands.

“You didn’t have to,” Ignis says, but the delight in his voice is evident as he accepts it.

“I hope you don’t mind, and I hope it’s not too forward of me, but you look wonderful tonight,” Gladio says as he walks Ignis to the passenger side.

“Thank you.” Ignis thumbs at a petal. “You look quite dashing as well.”

“Let me take you to an upscale restaurant next time,” Gladio says, opening the door for his date. “I’ll show you how dashing I can get.”

Ignis laughs, sliding into his seat. “Let’s finish this date before we start planning for the next, hm?”

Grinning, Gladio shuts Ignis’ door and returns to his spot behind the wheel.

 

 

 

  
Unsurprisingly, the night goes amazingly well.

They have dinner at a simple diner, Ignis insisting that casual dates are the best if a couple wishes to get to know one another. Fancy dates place several constrictions on things, he explains, and Gladio can only agree.

While Ignis’ résumé had provided Gladio with a decent amount of information about the man, there are things that he can only glean through personal interactions with him. Gladio learns that Ignis is skilled in the kitchen, and is ridiculously sarcastic when he finds an opening for a quip. He’d grown up abroad, which explains his accent, and he has a weak spot for canned coffee.

Ignis coaxes tidbits of Gladio’s life out of him, and Gladio willingly gives them up.

When Ignis reaches out to brush fingertips across the scars on Gladio’s face, he tries not to shudder underneath the gentle touch.

“What happened?”

“Bar fights,” Gladio admits sheepishly. “My teenage years were a little… unruly. But the one down my eye is partly Noctis’ fault, I have to say.”

Mild disappointment settles into his gut when Ignis retracts his hand.

“I, myself, have some scars from my teenage years,” Ignis says, taking a sip of his milkshake. “Yours add character, though.”

“Is that a fancy way of saying I look good with them?”

Ignis shrugs – somehow elegantly –, but the lift of his lips is answer enough.

“What of your body art?”

Gladio glances down at his exposed forearms. He usually keeps them covered whenever he’s at work, and only those close to him have had the honour of seeing his tattoo.

“It’s a bird of prey,” Gladio answers. “Goes up my arms and all down my back.”

“That’s a large piece,” Ignis comments, peering at the feathers inked across Gladio’s skin. “Did it hurt?”

“Like a bitch,” Gladio says, “especially the parts down my spine. But I think it’s quite worth it.”

Ignis glances up at him over the rim of his glasses. “I’d like to see the whole piece someday.”

“I’d let you,” Gladio says easily, and Ignis hides his pleased smile behind a bite of his food.

 

 

 

  
“If I may ask,” Gladio says, Ignis’ hand warm and snug in his as they walk down the beach at Galdin Quay. Ignis holds onto his stilettos with his free hand. “What made you start wearing female clothes?”

“I like how they make me feel,” Ignis says simply. “They make me feel beautiful, powerful, elegant. I do own a fair amount of male clothing, and I wear them when I want some comfort. They may look nice, but women’s clothing can be very uncomfortable.”

“Well,” Gladio says, gazing down at Ignis. “You do look beautiful in them.”

Ignis seems to preen, if only just a little. “Since you’ve been showering me in compliments tonight, I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

They slow to a stop, and Ignis steps in front of Gladio, their height difference much more pronounced without the additional inches Ignis’ footwear usually provides. Ignis has to rise up on the balls of his feet in order to whisper into Gladio’s ear.

“I wear women’s lingerie, too.”

Gladio’s brain promptly short-circuits. Ignis smirks.

“Maybe one day I’ll let you see my collection,” he purrs, and oh, how Gladio _wants_.

 

 

 

  
Their first date ends much too quickly, to both men’s displeasure.

Gladio drops Ignis off at his apartment with a kiss to his cheek, the contact lingering a few heartbeats longer than necessary.

“So,” Gladio murmurs. The couple are still in each other’s personal space, and Ignis reaches up to press a palm against Gladio’s chest. “About that second date.”

“You can take me to whatever fancy restaurant you want,” Ignis replies, breath ghosting over the edge of Gladio’s jaw. Gladio breathes in a lungful of Ignis’ perfume. “I’ll even let you pay.”

Gladio laughs, daring to wrap an arm around Ignis’ waist, his fingers grazing the jut of his hip. The movement brings Ignis even closer, chests bumping, and he doesn’t miss the sharp inhale from the man in his arms.

“Next Saturday? Same time?”

The fingers splayed across his chest curls into a loose fist around the fabric of his shirt. Ignis looks up at him, the viridian almost consumed by black. Gladio watches as those eyes flit down to his lips and back up.

“It’s a date,” Ignis all but whispers, and leans forward ever-so-slightly. Gladio mirrors his movement, and their lips end up barely an inch apart. Neither one makes a move, and after a few moments and several shared breaths, Ignis licks his lips and pulls back.

“Next time,” he promises, letting go of Gladio’s shirt and brushing the flat of his thumb across the fullness of Gladio’s bottom lip.

“Anything you want,” Gladio says, pressing a kiss to Ignis’ thumb, and Ignis smiles _that_ smile, causing a surge of emotions to bubble up inside Gladio’s throat.

Ignis clutches the bouquet of sylleblossoms to his chest.

“Goodnight, Gladio. I had a wonderful time, and I’m really looking forward to seeing you next weekend. Please drive safely.”

With that, Ignis steps away and disappears into his building. Gladio waits until he’s gone from sight before slumping against the car, breath slipping out of him in a shaky exhale. This date, he thinks, is probably the best one he’s ever been on. How did he get so lucky?

 

 

 

  
By the time Gladio gets to the café, Noctis is already there, halfway through a pastry. Prompto’s sitting next to him, talking a mile a minute, and somehow, Noctis looks as though he’s keeping up.

“Hey,” he says, pulling out a chair and managing to fit his frame into it.

Prompto immediately switches tracks, fixing Gladio with an eager look as he opens his mouth to say, “Gladio! How was your date with Iggy?”

“Perfect,” Gladio says, stealing a mouthful of Noctis’ drink. It’s too sweet, and Gladio pulls a face before passing it back. “We’re going on a second date on Saturday.”

He looks at Noctis – the man blinks back at him. “What?”

“You knew that he has access to your phone,” Gladio accuses. Noctis grins, obviously feeling no guilt whatsoever.

“Yeah,” he drawls. “I’m a great wingman, am I not?”

Gladio rolls his eyes and eats the rest of Noctis’ pastry, mentally readying himself for Prompto’s onslaught of questions. Sure enough, Prompto leans in, questions flooding through his brain and onto his tongue.

For the next twenty minutes, Gladio finds himself rehashing the details of the date to an extremely attentive Prompto. He also finds that he doesn’t mind doing so in the slightest.

 

 

 

  
The week passes by much too slowly for Gladio’s liking. He has meetings to attend almost every single day, and those only ever serve to extend the amount of hours he has to spend behind a desk.

He practically springs out of his office on Friday evening, leaving Rena staring after him in confusion. In preparation for the date tomorrow, he’d booked an appointment at his favourite salon, wanting to get his hair trimmed and conditioned. But before that, he has a rigorous gym session to finish.

Gladio’s muscular build isn’t out of necessity. He likes how muscles look on his frame, how they complement the intensity of his features and the deep amber of his eyes. He likes knowing that a single flex of his biceps can scare people away, likes how his lovers scratch nails down the hard ridges of his abs and the planes of his back.

He doesn’t have a strict workout regime – how can he, when he has such a demanding job? Instead, he maintains it with a good diet, and squeezes in workouts whenever he can.

“Fancy seeing you here on a Friday night,” Nyx says, ambling up to Gladio as the latter straps on his boxing gloves.

“Extenuating circumstances,” Gladio tells him, flexing his wrists. Nyx snorts.

“Big date?”

“The biggest,” Gladio says, turning towards a punching bag. “Huge, Nyx.”

“Call me over if you need a partner, yeah?” Nyx leaves him to his workout with a pat on his shoulder, and Gladio drives a fist into the bag.

Almost an hour and a half later, Gladio emerges from the showers, muscles burning delightfully. Nyx, stationed at the front desk, gives him a little wave.

“Enjoy your date,” he calls. “Stop by more often, Lunafreya’s been complaining about how she’s missed seeing you.”

“I’ll do my best,” Gladio says. “I may have more incentive to do so if she makes more of those Tenebraen desserts Noctis loves so much.”

Nyx laughs, and Gladio exits the gym with a grin.

That night, Gladio falls asleep with extra silky hair and buzzing nerves. Gods, it’s almost pathetic how much he can’t wait to see Ignis tomorrow.

 

 

 

  
Dressed in pressed slacks and a navy button-up, Gladio waits by his car with yet another bouquet of sylleblossoms in his hands. He stares down at the blossoms, gaze roaming over blue petals and the soft mesh of the bouquet’s wrapping. It’s the sound of heels that catches his attention, and Gladio looks up to see Ignis walking towards him, dirty blond locks tumbling into his eyes, courtesy of the wind. The glasses are gone from his face, and Gladio decides that he very much prefers the man without them, although he’s gorgeous either way.

Ignis, wearing an intricate, strappy cocktail dress, steps up to him.

“Are those for me?” He gestures to the bouquet, a soft smile on his lips.

“For you,” Gladio says, trying not to sound too smitten. “You’re… gods, Ignis, you’re beautiful.”

Ignis glances down at himself. “You… like it? To be honest, I wasn’t too sure if I would be able to pull this off.” He tugs self-consciously at the short hem. “I didn’t know how comfortable you’d be with it.”

“Me?” Gladio pauses, then reaches out to nudge Ignis’ chin up. “Hey, you can wear whatever you want, alright? Whatever makes you happy, whatever you like. You’re dressing for yourself, not for me or anyone else you date. Hell, you can walk out of your apartment dressed in a potato sack and I’ll still want to wine and dine you.”

Ignis gazes up at him, eyes unreadable. Then he shifts a little closer, brings a hand up to card fingers through Gladio’s hair, and mumbles a soft, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

“But?” Ignis is so close that Gladio can see a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. It’s fucking adorable.

“But,” Ignis sighs, “I should practice some self-control.”

With that, he steps back and gives Gladio an apologetic smile. “Maybe after the date?”

“Of course,” Gladio says, stepping around the car to open the passenger’s side door. Ignis gets into the car gracefully, folding his lithe frame inside with the elegance of a dancer.

When Gladio himself gets into the car, Ignis surprises him by leaning over and brushing soft lips across his cheek.

“Thank you,” Ignis says. Gladio doesn’t need to ask for an explanation. He simply gives Ignis’ hand a squeeze before starting the engine.

 

 

 

  
They have dinner at _Flame_ , one of the nation’s most renowned restaurants that usually requires reservations to be made at least one month ahead of time. Thankfully, Gladio’s family is on good terms with the owner’s, and Gladio had managed to snag a table with little hassle.

“I’ve always wanted to try the food here,” Ignis says absently as he scans the menu. “I could never get a table.”

“I’ll bring you here whenever you want,” Gladio promises, and Ignis laughs fondly.

“You sound just like a lovesick schoolboy,” he teases, and Gladio can only shrug. What’s the point of arguing if it’s the truth?

Dinner passes in a whirl, filled with both meaningful conversation and casual flirtation – Ignis even feeds Gladio some of his dessert. The date ends far too quickly, and Gladio drops Ignis off at home at the end of the night quite reluctantly.

“Would you,” Ignis begins, smoothing down the front of his dress as he steps out of the car. “Like to come up for a nightcap?”

“Are you sure?” Gladio asks, remembering Ignis’ earlier comment about self-control. “You don’t have to offer just because you feel like you should.”

“I’m sure,” Ignis says, reaching out to lace their fingers together. “I want you to.”

 

 

 

  
Ignis’ apartment is spotless and free of clutter, much like what Gladio had expected. Well, at least based off of what Gladio was able to see before Ignis pushes him down onto the couch and slides onto his lap.

“You’re sure about this,” Gladio exhales, resting large hands on supple thighs. In this position, Ignis’ dress barely covers his modesty, and Gladio’s having such a hard time keeping his eyes trained on Ignis’ face.

“Stop being such a gentleman,” Ignis sighs, tugging on the elastic around the ponytail Gladio had chosen to pull his hair into after dinner. “I’m positive that the signals I’m giving out are quite clear.”

He doesn’t even give Gladio time to respond before he tangles his fingers into Gladio’s hair and leans forward to press their mouths together. Ignis parts his lips almost instantly – Gladio gets the hint, slipping his tongue into Ignis’ mouth and relishing in the exquisite taste that belongs to the man only.

Ignis hums in contentment and scoots higher up on Gladio’s lap, the latter accommodating the change by setting his hands on the dip of Ignis’ waist instead. For a moment, all they can think about is the soft, slick slide of lips on lips, the subtle sweetness of Ignis’ dessert shared between them.

When Ignis lets out a little moan and starts grinding his crotch into Gladio’s with small, concentric circles, Gladio can’t help but tighten his grip on the man.

“What else do you want, Ignis?” Gladio asks, pulling back for air and nosing along the curve of Ignis’ shoulder. The fingers in his hair tighten, and a whine rings in Gladio’s ear when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to Ignis’ neck.

“So many things,” Ignis murmurs, hips still rolling. He grabs onto Gladio’s hands, making sure to maintain eye contact as he slips them up beneath the folds of his dress and around to cup his ass. When Gladio feels the lace and realizes what it belongs to, his dick fills instantly with blood.

“You’re killing me here,” Gladio groans, thumb slipping into the flimsy waistband of Ignis’ panties. Gods, the skin just above the curve of Ignis’ ass is so _soft_. When Ignis moves his hips again, Gladio can feel the muscles clench, and his dick twitches in response.

“Give me something. Anything, Gladio.” Ignis leans down and kisses him, sweet and filthy at the same time. “I’m so wet.”

Gladio swears under his breath, digging his fingers into the firm flesh of Ignis’ ass. Ignis whines.

“Can I see?” Gladio asks, moving his hands along the lace and towards the front of Ignis’ hips. He gets a desperate nod in response, and Gladio takes a steadying breath before he bunches up the fabric of the dress and holds it back.

There, straining against baby blue lace, is Ignis’ erection. The head is barely peeking out of the band, rosy pink and glistening with wetness. His balls are just about spilling out of the fabric, all smooth shaven and looking incredibly soft.

“You’re _actually_ trying to kill me,” Gladio mutters, vaguely aware of Ignis fumbling with the zipper of his dress. The garment’s tossed aside, freeing Gladio’s hands to touch.

“Touch me,” Ignis says, and Gladio swipes up a thick bead of precum off the slit of his cock. He licks it off his finger, painfully slowly, and Ignis tugs on his hair with a whimper.

“You taste so fucking good,” is all that fills Gladio’s mind. Heady with want, he drags his palms up the defined lines of Ignis’ abs and across the expanse of his chest, thumbs flicking intently at dusky nipples until they strain for more.

Above, Ignis is already a mess, cockhead smearing clear liquid down his navel as his panties struggle to keep him in check.

“Sensitive,” Ignis gasps, bucking when Gladio pulls gently on a nub.

When Ignis tries to strip Gladio of his clothes, Gladio clicks his tongue and rolls a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Ignis shudders, a hand dropping down to cup at his erection, the other returning to Gladio’s hair.

“Tonight’s just for you,” Gladio tells him. “Only you.”

He peels the lace panties down with one hand, far enough to free Ignis’ cock from its confines. “Lace looks so pretty on you,” Gladio compliments, “but then again, everything is pretty on you, huh?”

“You’re incorrigible,” Ignis huffs, rocking against the impressive length of Gladio’s erection currently straining underneath his slacks. “Stop teasing me and get on with it, Gladio, or I might just take matters into my own hands.”

He _would_ do just that, Gladio thinks, so he relents and wraps thick fingers around the heat of Ignis’ cock. The man exhales in pleasure at the much needed friction, and Gladio decides to make up for his playfulness by lubing a fingertip with Ignis’ precome and slipping between his cheeks to press against his hole.

“Yes, _gods_ –” He bucks up into Gladio’s fist, cock twitching. “Gladio –!”

“Not gonna fuck you today, Iggy,” Gladio says, leaning in to lick a hot stripe across a nipple. “But definitely soon.”

He swallows Ignis’ complaints by nibbling on his bottom lip, tongue soothing the brief sting immediately after. His fist works Ignis languidly, finger rubbing tightly around his opening as the man slowly, but surely, nears his completion.

Gladio nearly comes in his own pants when Ignis starts playing with his own nipples, plucking and tweaking the abused buds as his thighs shake with exertion. His cock jumps in Gladio’s hand, walls clenching around nothing as his hole flutters under Gladio’s ministrations.

“Fucking beautiful,” Gladio says for what seems like the hundredth time that day, scraping his teeth down the column of Ignis’ neck. Ignis’ lips, bitten raw, part in a silent moan when he comes, Gladio angling the head of his cock towards Ignis’ torso just in time.

Come lands all over Ignis’ taut body, and Gladio’s mouth practically waters at the sight. He coaxes the last few droplets out of Ignis’ spent cock, then proceeds to lift Ignis off his lap and place him down onto the far end of the couch. His panties are still bunched up around his thighs.

“Want me to clean that up for you?”

Ignis nods, eyes hazy and hair a mess. So Gladio, keeping his eyes on that wonderful flush smeared across Ignis’ cheekbones, dips his head low and licks up every single drop. Ignis lets out a weak moan what Gladio’s tongue swipes across his navel, and he clutches at Gladio’s arm when the latter suckles at a nipple.

“All clean,” Gladio declares, licking his lips. “Thanks for dessert, Ignis. Definitely worth the wait.”

“I’d very much like another date,” Ignis mumbles drowsily.

The happy smile Gladio receives in return when he leans down to press his lips against Ignis’ forehead is like a bolt of sunshine amidst a thunderstorm.

“Next weekend? Same time?”

“Yeah,” Ignis says, eyes fluttering shut when Gladio drops more kisses down the slope of his nose. “That sounds perfect.”

Gladio spends another half an hour with Ignis, the latter slipping into comfortable sweats and a tee after a proper clean up. They share a glass of wine, and Gladio pillows his head on Ignis’ lap, letting the blond play with his hair as they chat.

“It’s gettin’ late,” Gladio notes, after a nice little session of what is essentially snuggling on the couch. The clock across the room reads 11:38 p.m. “I should probably go. Armiger’s busy on Sundays, and I’d like you to get some rest.”

Ignis lets him go reluctantly, and Gladio does a half-assed job of fixing himself before stepping into his shoes and opening the door.

“I had a great time,” Ignis says, reaching up to pull Gladio down. “Thank you.” He nips at Gladio’s lips, a chaste kiss that leaves them both yearning for more. He’s just about to step back when Gladio cups the base of his head and closes the distance between them once again, lips closing around Ignis’ as they fall easily back into a rhythm of pleasure.

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to want to keep you here for the night.”

Ignis is warm in his arms when Gladio pulls away, and all Gladio wants is to stay. But he knows he shouldn’t, so he gives Ignis one last kiss on his forehead before stepping out the door.

“Gladio?” Ignis places a hand on the doorframe. “Could I… text you?”

“‘Course you can. Whenever you want.”

Gladio will never get enough of the brilliance of Ignis’ eyes.

“Goodnight, Gladio.”

“Night, Ignis.”

 

 

 

  
They end up having to cancel their next date, as both men are unfortunately too busy with work. Instead, they text – a lot. Gladio wakes up to a good morning text from Ignis every day, and they spend an obnoxious amount of time texting each other when they’re in bed at the end of the day. Not an hour goes by without them sending at least one message to the other.

Ignis texts like he talks – proper, with perfect spelling and grammar. It’s endearing, at least to Gladio, and it helps him imagine the sound of Ignis’ voice in his mind. It also helps him practice his poker face, because according to Rena, the way he reacts to receiving a text from Ignis is honestly cringe-worthy.

 

 

 

  
When Regis gives him another opportunity to drop by Armiger for work, Gladio instantly jumps at the chance. Rena gives him a knowing look when he walks up to her desk.

“Yes, Mr. Amicitia?”

“Why are you looking at me like that,” Gladio demands. She opens her mouth to answer, one already ready on her tongue, but he flaps a hand and shushes her instantly. “No, nevermind. I don’t want to know. How do I look?”

She rolls her eyes. “Good enough for Mr. Scientia.”

Gladio chokes on air and coughs so hard that Rena scoots her chair back just a little.

“You’re fired,” he wheezes, turning around and making a beeline for the elevators.

“See you tomorrow,” Rena calls after him, already turning back to her work. “Say hi to Mr. Caelum and Mr. Scientia for me!”

Now, Gladio actually has work to accomplish at Armiger – there are a couple of bugs in the club’s security system that have sprung up over the past few weeks, and he’s been ordered to work on a fix for it with Aranea.

Parking his bike, Gladio walks into the club to see a swarm of workers rushing around, trying to get decorations up in time for the doors to open tonight.

He waves to Prompto across the dance floor – how is he _always_ here? – and scans the room for Aranea. It’s moments like this that his height really comes in handy, because he finds her in seconds, hanging off the bar in search of something behind it.

“What are you doing,” he asks, walking up to her. She yells, flails, and nearly tumbles off the surface of the bar in shock.

“ _Bitch_ ,” she hisses, rubbing at a blossoming bruise on her knee. “How do you walk so quietly when you probably weigh five times what I do?”

“Skill?” Gladio says, shrugging. “Or maybe you just have horrible senses.”

“Fuck you too,” Aranea says, and Gladio grins. With a heavily put-upon sigh, she beckons for him to follow her towards her office. “The bugs are a bitch. I’ve never seen code that complex in my fucking life, and I don’t know, for the life of me –”

“Are you honestly so dense as to not understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

Gladio’s head snaps around at the familiar, accented voice. Sure enough, Ignis is standing in the middle of the dance floor, for once in jeans and sneakers, which explains how he’d blended in so well with the workers surrounding him. He’s got a clipboard in hand, glasses perched on the straight bridge of his nose, and hair pulled back into a tiny ponytail.

He seems irritated, and judging by the apologies that a pair of workers are spewing, it seems as though things aren’t going the way he wants them to.

Before he can register moving forwards a single step, Gladio’s already halfway across the room.

“Hey,” he says, touching Ignis’ elbow.

When Ignis turns around, something in his eyes softens.

“Gladio,” he says, sounding pleasantly surprised, “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

“Yeah, I’m here to help Aranea with something.” He turns to flap some fingers in her direction, and she waves back, clearly amused. “What’s going on? You okay?”

“I’m quite alright, Gladio, thank you. Just a little… stressed, you could say.”

Ignis flashes him a little smile.

“All this for the event tonight?”

“Indeed,” Ignis says, glancing at his clipboard. “And as you can tell, it’s not going too well.”

“I can help,” Gladio offers. “I won’t take the whole afternoon with Aranea.”

His heart does a funny little flip when Ignis reaches up to cup his jaw, all fond. “I might take you up on your offer,” Ignis says. “But only when you finish your work, yes?”

Gladio promises to do so, leaving to rejoin Aranea after giving Ignis’ hand a squeeze.

“Cute,” Aranea comments. “When’s the wedding?”

“Shut up,” Gladio snorts.

True to his word, Gladio finishes up with Aranea – the task takes a whopping five hours – before he shuffles out of her office, back popping with every step. He finds Ignis restocking the bar, but before he can make it over to him, he hears someone shout, followed with a booming crash.

“Heavens,” Ignis breathes. His already fair complexion drops another few shades almost instantly.

The back panel of a dividing wall has completely given out, an actual disaster considering the fact that the club has to open in just a few hours. Gladio turns towards Ignis to see him pulling out his phone, but before Ignis can try and find someone to come fix it, Gladio steps in and closes his hand over Ignis’.

“I can fix it,” he says. “We might be a little rushed for time, but I think I can do it. You’d be hard-pressed to find someone who’s able to rush over here in time.”

“What,” Ignis breathes, eyes wide. “Are you sure?”

Gladio hums, letting go of Ignis in favour of striding over to the crash site and surveying the damage.

“Yeah, the panel’s still in one piece. It’s just a matter of securing it back into the frame, honestly.” He looks over his shoulder at Ignis and waggles his brows. “Trust me, babe. I can do it.”

Ignis, somewhat overwhelmed, can only nod.

 

 

 

  
The workers and Ignis continue working around Gladio as he fixes up the wall. He has long gotten rid of his suit jacket _and_ his shirt, hair pulled away from his face in a half-knot, and the standing fan Prompto had managed to find is blowing air weakly into his face. It’s something, but he’s still sweating his balls off. He can’t imagine how bad it’d be if there wasn’t air conditioning.

“Do you need some iced water?” Ignis says, sounding worried.

“I’m alright,” Gladio answers, grunting as he tightens a screw. “I just… sweat a lot.” He grimaces. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for something so trivial,” Ignis scolds, sweeping hair out of his face. Gladio doesn’t miss the heated look that Ignis sweeps down his body. “Besides,” Ignis says, voice low, “it makes a nice sight.”

Gladio raises an eyebrow, a little smirk forming on his face as he straightens up.

“Free tomorrow night?”

“Perhaps,” Ignis says, lips pursed in an effort to prevent a smile from appearing on his face. “What do you have in mind?”

“Come over to mine,” Gladio suggests. “I’ll cook for you.”

“You cook?”

Laughing, Gladio rolls the stiffness out of his shoulder and returns to his work. “I cook well enough not to starve.”

“Sounds great,” Ignis says, and Gladio doesn’t detect a single hint of sarcasm in his voice. “I’ll be over at the same time?”

“It’s a date.”

Several hours later, the decorations are finally all in place, the wall’s fixed up enough to hold for the night, and Armiger gears up to open its doors for the event. Ignis rewards Gladio for his help with a long, deep kiss up against the door of Ignis’ office, one that both are reluctant to break.

“Thank you, Gladio,” Ignis mumbles, lips soft and supple against Gladio’s own. “For everything you’ve done for me tonight. I’m loathe to leave you, but I’m afraid I must.”

“It’s okay,” Gladio says, tugging lightly on Ignis’ hair. “I’ll head home and prepare for tomorrow night.”

They part, and Ignis gives Gladio a beautiful smile. “I look forward to it.”

 

 

 

  
It turns out that despite his best efforts, Gladio can’t cook a three-course meal to save his ass.

“If I remember correctly,” Ignis says, a twinkle in his eyes, “you said that you’re able to cook well enough to stay alive?”

“Well,” Gladio begins, dropping the tea towel onto the counter. “I did say that, but you did not know that I meant, uh, cup noodles.”

Ignis chuckles, the sound sending pleasant tingles through Gladio’s nerves. He sets down his glass of wine, and gestures for Gladio to step away from the stove.

“Cup noodles, you say? I’m sure I can work some magic, even when it comes to... Cup Noodles. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be scrounging through your kitchen in search of ingredients.”

Gladio blinks, eyes following Ignis’ slender frame as the other man sweeps through the kitchen, gathering supplies and ingredients.

“Wait, are you actually cooking? That wasn’t what –”

“That’s quite alright. I enjoy cooking,” Ignis says, smoothing an apron over his white, figure-hugging dress. “And I’m good at it.”

So Gladio lets Ignis take over, trying not to let the sheer joy of seeing three Cup Noodles sitting by the stove show on his face.

They chat as Ignis cooks, and Gladio even takes on the role of sous chef – he chops up fresh green onions for the garnish. It doesn’t take long for dinner to be prepared, and Gladio would be lying to himself if the sight of cup noodles in a bowl, topped with a runny egg, sliced vegetables, and tender meat, didn’t send him into a tizzy.

Ignis’s smile is knowing as they settle down to eat, and Gladio thinks he could absolutely fall in love with this man.

 

 

 

  
“That was amazing,” Gladio sighs, setting down his chopsticks and placing a content hand on his belly. “I never knew you could make cup noodles taste that divine.”

“You flatter me too much,” Ignis laughs.

Gladio clears the table, and they relocate to the living room, where they both nurse glasses of wine as a sitcom plays on the television. They get comfortable, Ignis draping his legs over Gladio’s lap and trying his best to slouch – just a little – in that tight dress of his. With Ignis’ slender feet right there, Gladio finds himself kneading his knuckles gently into the pale soles. Those heels that Ignis favours probably hurt like a bitch, he thinks absently, rubbing across the balls of Ignis’ feet.

Ignis manages to take it for a couple of minutes before he makes a little noise and tries to wriggle out of Gladio’s grasp.

“What? Oh, are you ticklish? Or does it hurt? I can –”

“No,” Ignis says, a little red in the face. “My feet are,” he swallows, “an erogenous zone.”

Armed with that new piece of information, Gladio presses the pad of his thumb into the curve of Ignis’ sole and watches with parted lips as Ignis practically trembles under his touch. His gaze darts down to where Ignis is desperately trying to hide his crotch with his hands, and Gladio suddenly wants to rip the white fabric off his body.

“Do you really want me to stop?”

Ignis whimpers.

“I’ll stop if you really want me to.”

Ignis wets his lips, but stays silent. Their eyes remain locked as seconds pass, then Ignis slowly reaches down to the hem of his dress, fingertips playing with the edge almost teasingly.

“Ignis?”

Then, inch by inch, Ignis lifts the hem. Fabric slides up silky thighs, and Gladio’s pulse quickens as more skin is revealed. He doesn’t stop caressing the soft skin of Ignis’ feet.

“I don’t want you to stop,” Ignis finally says. “Would you like _me_ to?”

By this point, the dress is more than halfway up Ignis’ thighs, and Gladio’s pants are getting too tight.

“God no.”

Ignis breathes out a shaky laugh, finally lifting his hips in order to pull the dress up over his ass. At the sight of matching white silk panties, Gladio lets out a groan and lets his head fall onto the back of the couch with a thud. The lingerie swaths Ignis’ erection perfectly, silk so clingy that Gladio can almost make out the edges of the glans.

Ignis’ erection twitches with each stroke of Gladio’s fingers down his soles. A wet spot is slowly blooming across the fabric, and Gladio desperately wants to taste.

The dress is bunched up around Ignis’ waist now, and he’s running his hand over his erection, squeezing ever so often, teasing touches that only serve to keep himself wanting more. It doesn’t take long for Ignis’ composure to completely unravel, and Gladio is treated with a front-row seat to the best show of his life. Ignis pushes his panties down and takes himself in hand, breaths coming in quick pants as he works his palm around the leaking head.

“Do you want me to keep doing this or would you like something else?” Gladio asks, rubbing circles into the heel of Ignis’ foot.

“Something –” Ignis moans, bucking up into his fist. “Something else.”

Gladio nearly leaps off the couch, spinning Ignis around so that the man’s feet end up planted on the ground. He peels those delightful panties off and places them on the floor before spreading Ignis’ legs apart and diving in.

He hasn’t given a blowjob in a while, but it doesn't take long before Gladio remembers why he’s always loved giving them. The feeling of Ignis’ fingers grabbing at his hair, the taste of the man, the weight of Ignis’ erection on his tongue… gods, Gladio’s in heaven.

Beautiful sounds are spilling out from between Ignis’ lips, and Gladio glances up to watch the ever-present poise slowly dissolve from Ignis’ face. He pulls back to wet a finger, then takes Ignis back into his mouth as he slips his finger between Ignis’ cheeks to rub at his hole.

Ignis slides easily down his throat, and Gladio hums in satisfaction, nose brushing against the smooth skin at the base of Ignis’ cock.

“If you don’t slow down,” Ignis moans, “I’m going to come embarrassingly fast.”

“Feel free,” Gladio says, swiping his tongue across the head. “I can always make you come again after.”

Ignis lets out a strangled sound and pushes Gladio back down onto his cock. Gladio takes that moment to slip his finger in, and he feels Ignis shudder all around the digit when his orgasm hits out of nowhere. Gladio swallows it all down.

The grip that Ignis has on Gladio’s hair is almost painful, but Gladio can only smirk, placing a hand on Ignis’ thigh to feel the aftershocks buzzing through the man’s frame.

“Good?”

He keeps his finger inside Ignis’ warmth, languidly sliding it in and out.

“More,” is what Ignis replies with.

“What do you want?”

“You,” Ignis says, hips rocking down onto Gladio’s finger. “Wouldn’t you like to feel me around you?”

“I want nothing more than that,” Gladio says, struggling to keep his voice level, “but I gotta go get supplies, and my room is quite far away. You gonna be okay while I’m gone?”

“I’ll be fine,” Ignis snorts, although he keeps grinding down on the finger still inside him. “Hurry up, Gladio.”

“Yes sir.” Gladio finally retracts his finger to a sad whine from Ignis, and when he’s back on his feet, he leans down to give Ignis a deep kiss. “Be back in a few seconds, love.”

 

 

 

  
Gladio wishes he could travel back in time and thank his past self for buying such a large couch. He has just enough space to hover over Ignis, the latter with his knees pulled up and thighs spread wide open to accommodate the sheer size of his body.

Sweat starts beading along Gladio’s hairline as he fights back to urge to push deep into Ignis’ ass – he’s almost halfway in, but he’s so _big_ that it always takes patience, for both parties, before things can really start to get going.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Ignis breathes, lips kiss-swollen and pupils blown. The tendons in his neck are pulled taut, and Gladio can feel neatly trimmed nails digging into his biceps. “It’s a stretch, is all.”

“Sorry,” Gladio winces, slipping a hand between them to palm at Ignis’ flagging erection in an attempt to distract the man from the discomfort.

“Don’t be,” Ignis replies, nudging Gladio further in with a heel to the small of Gladio’s back. He sighs, eyelids fluttering shut at the stretch. “I like it. It’s been a while since I’ve been so filled.”

They trade soft kisses as Ignis wills himself to relax, and the exhales that escape their mouths when Gladio is finally inside is a shared one of relief. Ignis’ cock starts swelling once Gladio begins a slow grind, pushing his girth right up against Ignis’ prostate with every roll of his hips.

“Gods, that’s good,” Ignis breathes, clutching onto Gladio as he rocks them into the couch.

Moans litter the air between them, and it doesn’t take much to make Ignis come again, the man digging half-moons into Gladio’s flesh as come stains his dress.

Gladio reaches his own climax not long after, arms trembling from exertion as he releases into the condom, still sheathed in Ignis’ heat. To avoid crushing Ignis with his weight, Gladio rolls them over onto their sides, and Ignis throws a leg up onto Gladio’s hip to accommodate the change.

“That’s gonna be a bitch to get off,” Gladio grunts, gesturing at the stains beginning to settle in on Ignis’ dress. He’s still inside, but it doesn’t seem as though either party wants to separate. “And why do you still have that on?”

“Huh,” Ignis says, glancing down at himself. “I don’t know.” He struggles to pull it off his head, and when it’s finally off, he tosses it to the ground where it joins the rest of their clothes.

“We’re really sweaty,” Gladio goes on to say. “It’s kinda gross.”

“A little,” Ignis agrees. He reaches up to run a hand through Gladio’s hair. “Yet your hair still looks quite nice. How does it stay like that?”

Gladio laughs, settling an arm around the curve of Ignis’ waist. “Have you seen your own hair?”

“Yeah, and it’s nothing compared to yours,” Ignis says mournfully.

They share a smile, but the moment shatters when Ignis shifts, sending jolts of sensation shooting up Gladio’s dick.

“Oh,” Ignis utters. He shifts again.

“Oh,” Gladio echoes. Ignis presses closer.

“Would you like to go again,” Ignis breathes, and Gladio doesn’t even have to glance down to know that Ignis is getting worked up just from feeling Gladio inside him.

“Really?”

Ignis only nods.

“Gods, I could _really_ fall in love with you,” Gladio sighs, and Ignis smiles, all bright and heart-stopping.

 

 

 

  
They make it to their eighth date before Ignis finally gives in and asks Gladio to become his boyfriend. There’s a lot of laughing, a lot of blushing, and a lot of touches to commemorate their new relationship.

When Gladio gets into work the following Monday, Rena takes one look at him before she brings her hands together and begins to clap. Slowly.

“Wow, Mr. Amicitia. Look at you. You’re _glowing_.”

Gladio lifts a finger, eyes narrowing in mock warning.

“Can I have the afternoon off?” She goes on to say. “I want to hunt down a beautiful bouquet to send to Mr. Scientia.”

He huffs, and heads into his office immediately so she wouldn’t see the grin that’s beginning to spread across his face. Rena’s cackles follow him into the room.

Half an hour later and he’s already knee deep in emails. Rena drops in to pass him a cup of coffee, and he’s just taken a mouthful when he opens an email from Noctis with a subject title of _Congrats_. Frowning, Gladio opens it and nearly spits out his coffee when he reads _can’t believe he picked you_ lmaooooooo _._

He replies to the email with _haha fuck you_ , and snorts out a laugh before getting back to work.

During lunch, he leaves for Armiger, ignoring the grin Rena gives him when he walks past her desk. Ignis is outside when he pulls up on his bike, dressed in a tight, red leather skirt and a simple white blouse. As per usual, he takes Gladio’s breath away.

“Hey,” he says, taking off his helmet.

“Hi,” Ignis replies, eyes twinkling as he steps close for a kiss.

“Lunch? Iris introduced me to this nice little bistro a few blocks away, and I think you’d like it.”

“Sounds amazing,” Ignis says, slipping an arm around Gladio’s middle, “but there’s a catch.”

Gladio raises a thick eyebrow. “Catch?”

The corner of Ignis’ mouth quirks, then he jerks a thumb back towards the club. “Some people want to join us.”

Right then, Noctis and Prompto saunter out of the club. Gladio groans.

“The two of you are walking,” he says immediately.

“I have a car, Gladio,” Noctis deadpans.

“You’re not driving without me in the car, Noct.” Ignis says sternly. Noctis rolls his eyes.

“The obvious solution is that we all get in the damn car,” Noctis says.

“I ain’t getting in the car if you’re driving.”

Noctis smacks Gladio on the arm, only succeeding in hurting himself.

“I’ll drive,” Ignis says, reaching into Noctis’ pocket and extracting the keys. He gives Gladio a wink and Gladio can practically hear his heart whimper.

The four of them head around back, and along the way, Prompto sidles up to Gladio and gives him a knowing look.

“What,” Gladio asks, eyes narrowing.

“You’re smitten,” Prompto says, loud enough for everyone to hear. Gladio coughs.

“Shut up.”

Prompto laughs, and Noctis turns around from where he’s walking a few steps ahead with Ignis to grin at him.

Ignis, bless his soul, doesn’t turn around to join in the teasing. He does, however, lean over the console the second Gladio gets into the passenger seat in order to give him an incredibly sweet kiss before starting the engine.

“For the record,” Ignis says, lips brushing the shell of Gladio’s ear, “I’m quite smitten too.”

In the back seat, Prompto and Noctis let out obnoxious cheers, complete with fist bumps. Gladio melts into his seat, all 6’6” of him. 

**Author's Note:**

> So, Gladio's a little OOC (in regards to how he speaks) because he's a businessman in this AU and he needs to sound polished, y'know?
> 
> Anyway, I love their love.
> 
> [Click for Links!](https://bluedveins.wixsite.com/evoxine)


End file.
